


"The People Need Wigs, R!"

by mihomi98



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Enjolras and social change, M/M, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pining, Piningjolras, drunkjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:44:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihomi98/pseuds/mihomi98
Summary: When Enjolras sets out to prove he's not a lightweight during Les Ami's weekly movie night, Grantaire thinks it's hilarious to see Enjolras get drunk. When he starts to flirt with Grantaire and demands that he cuddles him, however, things aren't as funny anymore."At first, Grantaire was greatly amused by this new side to Enjolras, but when Enjolras plopped himself down on Grantaire's lap and began to nuzzle his nose in Grantaire's hair, the amusement turned to despair. Grantaire couldn't help but wrap an arm around Enjolras's waist, his other hand drawing designs against the back of the blond's shirt with his fingertips."You smell so good, R," Enjolras slurred, pulling back to press a kiss to Grantaire's temple before pulling lightly on his curls. "And your hair is so pretty. And soft. Why is it so soft, R? Why is it so pretty?"





	"The People Need Wigs, R!"

It was official, Grantaire was 110% against the consumption of alcohol around his friends.

Granted, the fact that he had been sober for almost six months was enough to try and keep him from temptation, but the biggest turn-off against his drug of choice was the way that it had a habit of turning people into clingy beasts that spouted out half-truths that made Grantaire's heart ache.

Well, maybe it was just when Enjolras was drunk that it did that.

Courfeyrac had, stupidly, thought it was a good idea to tease Enjolras about what a lightweight he was during their weekly movie night at his and Combeferre's apartment, and Enjolras, ever the rebel, set out to prove him wrong, downing three shots of vodka and nearly an entire Long Island Iced Tea in less than fifteen minutes. He seemed to be all right for a while, much to the surprise of all of his friends, but when he began to drink his second tea, everything went to shit. All of the alcohol in his system hit him hard, and he went from being his confident, charming self to a slurring and overly-affectionate flirt.

At first, Grantaire was greatly amused by this new side to Enjolras, but when Enjolras plopped himself down on Grantaire's lap and began to nuzzle his nose in Grantaire's hair, the amusement turned to despair. Grantaire couldn't help but wrap an arm around Enjolras's waist, his other hand drawing designs against the back of the blond's shirt with his fingertips.

"You smell so good, R," Enjolras slurred, pulling back to press a kiss to Grantaire's temple before pulling lightly on his curls. "And your hair is so pretty. And soft. Why is it so soft, R? Why is it so pretty?"

Grantaire forced a small smile as Enjolras kissed his temple again. His heart was ready to beat out of his chest, and his entire body was tingling from the heat wafting off Enjolras's body in waves. "I don't know, Apollo."

Enjolras tugged harder before looking over at Courfeyrac and frowning. "You have pretty hair, too. Why is it so nice?" He pushed himself off Grantaire's lap, crossing the living room and draping himself over Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who were cuddling on their love seat. He threw his legs over Combeferre's thighs and rocked back into Courfeyrac's chest. He reached up and pulled on Courfeyrac's curls. Grantaire tried I ignore the jealousy bubbling up in his gut." R's hair is prettier, though." He dropped his voice down to a "whisper," which really meant he was talking in a breathier version of his typical talking voice. "I like R's hair a lot."

He sat on Courfeyrac's lap for a moment longer before moving on to Joly (the alcohol had already put him to sleep), Boussuet, who was sitting on the floor making origami fans with Feully, and Musichetta, who was lying in Courfeyrac's extra-large bowl chair. He stared pointedly at Boussuet's bald head before patting Musichetta's enlarged stomach. "I hope your babies have curly hair like you, 'Chetta. Boussuet has no hair, you know. Joly has nice hair, though. Do you think the babies will have nice hair?"

His eyes widened and he turned to Boussuet. "We should take some of Grantaire's hair and put it on you! Maybe then they'll have his hair, too! It's be curly like 'Chetta's, chestnut like Joly's, and soft like R's! It'll be perfect!"

Combeferre snorted, and Grantaire let out a strangled chuckle, his cheeks burning. Enjolras looked back at him, frowning again, his eyes flashing. "Your hair is not a laughing matter, R. We will give the people curls!" He stumbled across the living room and sat down on Grantaire again. "People all across the nation are losing their hair. They want wigs. We must give the people wigs, R!"

Before Grantaire could respond, Musichetta squirmed her way out of the chair. She used her hand to support her belly. "Okay, Enjolras, I'm going to take my boys home, and I think I should take you, as well. You've had more than enough tonight."

Enjolras pouted and wrapped his arms tightly around Grantaire's neck. "I want to stay with R. He's my favorite." He kissed Grantaire's cheek.

Grantaire's heart began to race, and he bit his lip, reminding himself that it was just the alcohol in his system that was making Enjolras act like this towards him. No matter how much he wished otherwise, Enjolras didn't care nearly as much about him when he was sober. They argued on a near-constant basis, and Enjolras responded to Grantaire's obvious looks of longing and veneration with irritation and announce.

Regardless, he was helpless to anything his Apollo wanted. "I'll take him home," he said, forcing himself to untangle Enjolras's arms from around his neck and push him off his lap. He immediately felt empty, but he resisted he the urge to pull Enjolras back against him as he stood up and began to head towards the entry-table, where his keys were sitting with his wallet. He grabbed both before biding his friend's goodbye and walking out the door, Enjolras close behind.

When they reached Grantaire's decrepit pick-up truck, however, Enjolras stopped following him, crossing his arms and pouting when Grantaire tried to get him to sit down and get buckled. Fortunately, Grantaire was much stronger than Enjolras even when he was sober, so it wasn't very difficult for him to overcome him before going around and getting in, himself. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street before glancing over at Enjolras, who looked completely furious now.

"What's wrong, Apollo?" he asked, looking back at the road. "I thought you wanted me to take you home."

Enjolras huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, turning his head to stare out the window. Grantaire looked over at him sadly, his heart sinking. He should have known that Enjolras being happy around him wasn't going to last very long, even if he /was/ intoxicated out of his mind.

He let out a low breath and let his shoulders slump, the tension in the car becoming palpable as Enjolras began to mutter angrily under his breath. He really wasn't sure what he had done wrong.

As he turned into Enjolras's street, however, Enjolras voiced his irritation. "I can't cuddle with you in the car. The stupid cup holder is in the way." He gave the plastic a look of disgust, his lip curled up in a sneer. "I want your arms around me again."

Grantaire choked on air, his mouth dropping open and his heart stopping. "What?" He glanced over, his hands trembling as he pulled up in front of Enjolras's building. He reached over and undid Enjolas's seatbelt as the man huffed again.

He expected Enjolras to get out of the car and stomp up to his apartment, but Enjolras, it seemed, had other plans. He studied Grantaire with a perplexed look on his face before his eyes lit up. "You should come up to my apartment and cuddle with me! Nothing will be in the way, then!" He smiled brightly, reminding Grantaire a child who has worked out a "master" plan to get what they want. He reached out and took Grantaire's hand, interlacing their fingers.

Grantaire let out another strangled breath. "Uhm, I don't think that's such a good idea, Apollo," he said, pulling his hand back and leaning against the door. "You're really drunk right now. It wouldn't be right."

"So? You used to be drunk a lot and you cuddled with Courfeyrac and Jehan and Cosette all the time. Why won't you cuddle with me? Do you hate me?" His lower lip began to tremble, and his eyes filled with tears. The corners of his mouth were turned so far down that he almost looked like a cartoon, something that Grantaire would have found comical if it wasn't so out of character for the man he had loved for nearly three years.

When the tears began to slide over Enjolras's cheeks, all of Grantaire's self-control flew out the window. He sighed and turned the car off, pulling the key out and shoving it in his pocket. "Come on, then, I can't very well cuddle you in this damn car."

Immediately, Enjolas's tears stopped and he beamed at him, opening the door and jumping out. Grantaire got out more slowly, his mind and heart at war with one another. It was true, he'd give anything to have a night just holding Enjolras, but he couldn't help but desperately wish that Enjolras's desires were legitimate, not just impaired.

Enjolras all but skipped up to his apartment, taking Grantaire's hand as soon as the door was unlocked and pulling him into the bedroom. He stripped down to just his boxer-briefs and his undershirt while Grantaire stared pointedly at the wall.

Enjolras threw his clothes into a basket in the corner of the room before pushing the blankets to the center of the bed. He got under the covers and held up the opposite corner, smiling again. "Come here, R. You're too far away."

Grantaire took a moment to compose himself before doing as Enjolras asked. He started to lean back against the headboard, but Enjolras pulled him down so that they were lying side-by-side, Grantaire on his back and Enjolras's head on Grantaire's chest.

Grantaire began to run his fingers though Enjolras's hair, trying to stay calm when he heard Enjolras let out small hums of contentment. On the inside, however, he was well beyond freaking out.

Loving Enjolras from afar had been one thing, but what was he supposed to do now that he's held Enjolras in his arms? How was he supposed to cope with memories of Enjolras kissing him and calling him his favorite? He felt overwhelmed by how in love he was, and every second spent cuddling with Enjolras took him to a whole new level of patheticness. How could he even look him in the eye without his heart breaking?

Grantaire was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Enjolras's gentle snores for almost a full hour after they had climbed I no bed. Once he had, though, he knew that he had to get up. Being with Enjolras was nice while it lasted, but he couldn't take advantage of Enjolras for his own selfish feelings.

He gently pushed on Enjolras's shoulder and rolled him away before getting out of bed. He tiptoed through the apartment and out the front door, letting out a loud exasperated sigh once the front door had been closed behind him.

He was never hanging out with a drunk Enjolras again.

***

Late the next morning, Grantaire had /finally/ fallen asleep when a banging on his door jolted him awake. He groaned and rolled out of bed, grabbing his pajama pants and a tee shirt off the floor. He slipped them on and left his room, calling out, "Jesus, I'm coming!" as the banging became louder.

He opened the door, stumbling backwards in shock as he saw Enjolras standing in front of him. His hair was a mess, he was pale, and there was a spot of vomit on his shirt, but Grantaire still thought he looked beautiful. "Uhm, if you came here for something to cure your hangover, you came to the wrong place," he said nervously, lifting a hand up and rubbing the back of his neck. "I know you don't eat meat, but McDonalds' ice cream used to do the trick for me--"

"I'm not here to talk about my hangover, R," Enjolras said sternly, side-stepping Grantaire and coming in to the apartment. "I want to talk about last night."

"I get it, you were drunk, it didn't mean anything, that's fine, you don't have to apologize or anything--"

Grantaire's words were swallowed was Enjolras launched forward and wrapped his hands around the back of Grantaire's neck, leaning forward and kissing him deeply. Grantaire let out an undignified squeak and pulled away, his heart leaping into his throat and his mind going completely blank. Enjolras, now sober, had just kissed him!

Grantaire was completely frozen in place as Enjolras stared at him. He wanted to say something, to ask what the kiss had meant, but he couldn't get anything out besides a garble of sounds.

After nearly thirty seconds of Grantaire's stuttering, Enjolras's face fell. He bit his lip and looked down, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I, uh, I guess I misunderstood what was going on last night. I thought you were just being noble by trying to keep your distance while I was drunk, but--" He cut off, shaking his head. "Uhm, we can just forget last night ever happened, then. I'm not going to force you to like me if you don't."

He looked up at Grantaire, his eyes begging for Grantaire to tell him that he hadn't misunderstood anything. Grantaire still couldn't get the words out. Enjolras waited a few more seconds before swallowing and nodding curtly. "Uhm, right. I'll just get going, then." He began to turn towards the door.

Grantaire began to panic again. He had to say something, Enjolras had to know the truth! He didn't deserve to look that sad, especially because of Grantaire's lack of tack around him. "I'm in love with you!" he blurted out, his filter ripping right down the middle as the words that had been plaguing him for so long came tumbling out.

Now it was Enjolras's turn to freeze, and he turned back around with disbelief written all over his face. "What?" he asked in a small voice, his cerulean eyes widening and his eye brows shooting up into his hairline.

Grantaire took a deep breath and nodded. He took a step towards Enjolras, reaching down and tangling their fingers together. Enjolras's Palm was just as sweaty as his own. "You didn't misunderstand anything. I've been in love with you pretty much since I met you; of course I wanted to cuddle with you."

This time, Grantaire was expecting it when Enjolras pulled him into a kiss. Unlike the first, however, this kiss was gentle and chaste, lasting for only a few seconds before Enjolras pulled back and leaned his forehead against Grantaire's. "I love you, too, R."

Grantaire could fly with the amount of happiness and pure adoration that coursed through his veins at Enjolras's words. He squeezed his hand and gave him another kiss before taking a step back. "I don't know about you," he said, smiling softly, "but I'm exhausted. What do you say we go cuddle in my bed and take a nap together?"

Enjolras smiled back. "Sounds like a plan to me."

He followed Grantaire to his bedroom, shucking off his shoes and his jeans before lying down next to Grantaire and wrapping his arms around his waist, affectively pressing the entire front of his body to the back of Grantaire's.

Grantaire fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Maybe drunk-Enjolras wasn't that bad.


End file.
